AlterEgo
by GhostlyJasper
Summary: Matthew Williams is your typical, musical boy, and the son of a rich man. But at night, he becomes Delacroix, popular DJ sensation. When he meets Gilbert and his band, 'The Bad Friends', his life permanently and irrevocably changes… But with two lives to attend to, can he maintain their relationship and keep his secret at the same time? (Now being rewritten!)


One (Your Name) / Swedish House Mafia

Darkness.

A figure creeps through the shadows.

There's a bumping, followed by a hiss.

"Shit, shitshitshit."

Matthew instinctively hopped on one foot. The night's famed DJ just stubbed his toe in his father's high-rise apartment. At least he hadn't dropped his equipment.

He was about to go out.

He hobbled down the hall and into the bathroom. There was work to be done. And none of it sexy. Whatsoever. Matthew shut the door and turned on the lights.

 _We have a lot of work to do_ , he thought sullenly as he turned his head to the mirror. A hair tie pulled back his blond curls. He took off his glasses and put in his contacts. They were red. It was hard enough to get them with his father over his shoulder, let alone when he had to get replacements.

He donned his flannel and laced up his Timberlands.

This whole ensemble took thirty minutes, if you included the dumb things like a face-cleanse and his ten-minute pep-talk to himself in the mirror.

Why did Matthew subject himself to this torture?

Simple: He was a DJ.

An idol. A symbol of night-life to the public eye.

For his entire life, Matthew had had a knack for music. His father, however, was hardly around to notice his work. When his dad remarried, he became overshadowed by his athletic step-brother.

 _Nevermind that_ , Matthew pinched himself. _They can't tell you who you are._

Before him stood his alter-ego, Delacroix.

Delacroix was confident. He was cocky and rebellious, and always spoke his mind. Matthew - oh, no, he could hardly say hello to his teachers in the morning.

No matter what he did - he got good marks in school, always stayed on task at the right time - he was never going to get what he craved as who he woke up as every morning.

So, he changed it.

Delacroix breathed in deeply, as if he'd been under meters of water. He looked at himself one last bitter time before splashing the mirror and turning out the lights.

Out of darkness he emerged, and into neon lights he strode.

* * *

"Ah~ Delacroix, hun, we've been waiting!" A woman with a smooth jaw and dyed silver curls framing her face approached him. She laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. _This is discomforting..._ Matthew thought. _Jesus Christ, get off,_ thought Delacroix.

Delacroix resolved to lightly pushing her affectionate hand away. "Ms. Celeste, less touchy, more work. Come on, when do I take stage?" His mood was lifting in anticipation of the show. It certainly hadn't helped that he had an episode in the bathroom, but here, he felt a bit better.

"Hm, about 2:30. You've got about... seven and a half minutes." The hostess tapped a small watch on her wrist. "You're lucky we always give you a later spot."

 _Yeah, and not enough to compensate_ , Delacroix thought bitterly. _There's no reason to be like that!_ Matthew thought in retort.

Delacroix moved from one end of the room to the other, closing the distance to the door. Quietly, he wedged his way onto the show floor. He was some work to do. He tried as quickly as he could to hook up his equipment to the audio system, and finished with about... ah, no seconds to spare.

The lights centered onto him.

He was standing with his hands poised. He should say something.

Instead, Delacroix stared into the crowd, gave a signal for the lights to flash off, and there were sudden, wild cries filled the room. He felt like the walls might crack.

He decided, _Nah, I don't even need to say anything_.

Three figures, one of them with pale skin and what looked like bleached white hair, stood at the edge of the dance floor.

Delacroix turned his head slightly. Ms. Celeste grinned at him, almost like a proud, doting mother. His face shaped into a lopsided smile as he turned back to the crowd.

Then the beat hit, and the room fell into ecstasy.

* * *

Ecstasy doesn't last forever, though, and neither does a coffee-induced high. Case in point:

"Damn... it..." Matthew groaned as he pulled his red sheets over his head. He reluctantly peeped at the clock.

 _12:34_

"Coffee." Matthew mumbled into his pillow. "Coffee... wake up..."

 _Sure. Great, great idea. Especially when you'll be working at your computer all day. Your hands are going to shake like buildings in an earthquake._

"Christ, subconscious." Matthew sighed dramatically.

 _Christ, Matthew_ , it thought back.

Matthew finally mustered the courage to remove himself from bed.

Then, unceremoniously, rolled onto the floor with a thud - which will forever be remembered as the sound of miserable failure. Always.

 _Mornin', biiiitch._

"And not morning to you, sir," Matthew raised his arm and attempted his sleepy rendition of flipping the bird.

"Matthew?" a voice with a slight French lilt called worriedly.

"I'm fine, Dad!" Matthew called. "I'm gonna... just go grab a coffee. Do you want me to grab donuts?"

He could almost bet his father was thinking, _"He just woke up. How will he walk down the sidewalk without running into traffic?"_ It was a great question, and Matthew was pretty confident that, one of these days, he probably would run into traffic just from sheer lack of energy.

Regardless of that fact, Matthew slipped on his socks, a beanie to cover his bed hair, and at least attempted to look like... well, like someone who didn't just wake up at 12:34.

 _Ew, a groutfit_ , Matthew spun in the mirror. Gray sweatpants, gray sweater - there was nothing redeeming about this. He sighed yet again.

And, as unremarkable and unimpressive as he had woken up, he walked out the door into the blinding morning sun.

* * *

Matthew's feet had dragged themselves to the nearest Tim Horton's. He sat waiting for his order - dark roast with extra shots of espresso - yes, he was a madman - when two... no, three guys strode in the front door. They carried themselves like kings, even if they were all only 16 or 18, and Matthew's eyes were drawn instantly. The one in the middle was going on about something in a German accent, his platinum hair hanging in his strange, burgundy eyes.

The other two were unmistakable as well. The Frenchman with the fashion sense of a fallen angel, the Spaniard with the charm of romance gods themselves - oh, yes. This was exactly who he thought it was.

This was none other than The Bad Friends, the city's most iconic band, a slowly rising star on charts. And not only that, they were also his step-brother's favorite band as of late.

 _I can't miss this,_ Matthew told himself. He pulled out his phone to take a snap, but before he could send-

"Oi!"

Matthew dropped his phone in shock. In the meager amount of time he'd been typing his message to his step-brother, the possibly-albino band member had just - poof! - appeared right in front of him.

"E-excuse me?!" Matthew scooted backwards, still somewhat alarmed. "I mean, excuse me..."

The pale boy raised a brow.

"You know if you want pictures, ya just gotta ask?"

Matthew sighed in relief.

Which was immediately un-relieved as the boy pulled Matthew up from his seat, as well as his two other bandmates, and swiftly snapped a near-perfect selfie. Matthew hadn't even had time to properly react, so he simply looked like he was hugely excited to see the trio.

He was, frankly, kind of intimidated. _In a good way, though?_ Matthew made a mental note to come back to that train of thought later.

"Uh... uhm..."

The pale boy patted Matthew on his back. Matthew noticed the odd detail that he had a scar on his lower lip. He shook his head and thanked the trio, trying to hide his confusing concoction of embarrassment and admiration. He heard his name called from the front - his coffee!

He raced to the front, filled with a newfound energy. Then, he just as quickly speed-walked out of the door.

His heart was still racing when he sat at his desk, finally ready to work.

* * *

Hi there, this is an hour late because I was teaching myself Korean, aaaaaaaaaaaa

SO. REWRITES. ARE HERE.

I AM HYPE.

Do follow this new version of Alter/Ego! It will be quite different from the last, so please support this new project! Review, review, review, and as always...

Signing off!

-Jasper ^w^


End file.
